To Catch The Wind
by SkyWideOpen
Summary: She's not what you could call an ordinary girl. No parents, no past, no memory - just a name and a sister. But somewhere, deep within a part of her mind she isn't even aware of, she has a secret. A hidden identity that will change both their lives beyond her wildest dreams. And the Doctor is determined to make sure she finds it. Amy/11, pre-established AU but stand-alone.
1. No Ordinary Girl

**So I have a confession to make.**

**One of the reasons I got so annoyed with my progress on Last Of The Time Ladies is that I have not one but _three_ plotted "sequel" or post-Earthsphere storylines ready and planned. But an update rate of one ten-thousand-word chapter every three months is hardly satisfying or speedy, so it became increasingly likely that these ideas would never see the light of day. Unless, of course... well, let's just say I take the phrase 'screw continuity' a bit too much to heart. So this is, technically, a sequel. Despite the fact that LOTTL has not even been completed. If you're interested, the other two ideas I mentioned are set _well_ into the future and hence come way after even this, which begins approximately five years further down Amy's time line than LOTTL. Speaking of which...**

**This is set in a pre-established, open-ended AU which has major canon divergence. There is no Silence and the canon version of River Song does not exist – emphasis on the word _canon. _This is Doctor Who, canon is secondary to whatever the hell I want to do. Be warned. It is a pre-established Amy/11. Sorry if that bothers you. Both Amy and 11 – but _especially_ Amy – have developed quite differently to how they develop in the show, and Amy's backstory is somewhat darker. Rating-wise, there will be swearing and the like, a few dark themes and some violence, but I don't think anything that would warrant an M.**

**Thus far I have approximately five chapters (note: my chapters are _long_) of this plotted. If I get a good reaction to posting this now, I'll continue this concurrently with LOTTL.**

**By the way, don't feel you _have_ to read LOTTL to read this. In fact I would advise against it for a while if you haven't (though you'll need to at some stage to get the backstory); it'll make it more fun as more of the nature of the AU is revealed through the story itself.**

**Usual disclaimers apply; I own nothing etc. etc.**

**Favourites/follows are welcomed, but reviews are by far the best, especially criticism of the constructive kind. This chapter (apart from this long preamble) is a brief prologue to set things up.**

* * *

THE LAST OF THE TIME LADIES:

**TO CATCH THE WIND**

* * *

_In every way that matters, we are the sum of our memories.  
- Joshua Foer  
_

**PROLOGUE:** **No Ordinary Girl**

* * *

**I.**

**February, 2010. Sydney, Australia.**

Today was a hot day.

Obscenely, ridiculously hot. The forecast had predicted a temperature in the mid-thirties...

_Yeah, no, somehow, I think that was an underestimation, _the girl thought, as she made her way home from school.

Heat rose off the concrete path in thick, oppressive waves, shimmering in the air around her. It wasn't a particularly hot summer by normal standards, certainly not as insane as last year, but every now and then it would throw up a day like today where moving and melting felt like two sides to the same coin.

_First thing I'm doing when I get home,_ Melody Clarke decided, as sweat poured from the base of her dirty-blonde curly locks. _is jump straight into the shower, turn it on as cold as I can and stay there for ten minutes._

She kept walking, trying unsuccessfully to stick to the shade as the fierce sun beat upon her shoulders. She walked, as always, alone. She had friends, of course, plenty of them, but she'd learnt long ago that people didn't really like spending a lot of time around her. Nothing personal, she knew – they just found her view of the world a bit... unnerving. It didn't worry her, really – she was social, and outgoing and all that, but there were a few things about the ordinary teenage girl's life that she simply couldn't stand because they made her physically nauseous, and these set her apart from all her friends. Mostly to do with large, vocal crowds, which ruled out most pubs and clubs.

She'd been slowly drifting away from other people for the last year, and she knew it. _They just don't understand. They don't see it, don't hear it._ She was unique, she was special, and that wasn't always a good thing.

Her parents comforted her, smiled, nodded with loving eyes, but she could tell they didn't really understand either. How could they? They were just normal people... just like everyone other than her.

What she wanted, what she really,_ really_ wanted, was someone who understood. Understood what it was like to be unique. To be special. A sibling she'd never had... could never have.

She blinked, shook her head. _Don't worry about that now. Nothing to be gotten out of that._

She was rounding the corner to the entrance of her own street when a piercing screech rent the air, followed by a thunderous crash and a deep reverberation. The sound exploded through Melody's head like a bomb.

_Jesus. What the hell was that?_

She turned around and headed back onto the main street, heading towards the source of the sound. She could hear crackling flame as she ran, sweltering heat forgotten.

She turned another corner and stopped dead in her tracks as she took in the scene before her.

Twisted metal lay everywhere, the remains of the car strewn across the road. From the skid marks and scrapes in the asphalt, it was clear what had happened – the driver had evidently lost control, slammed into a tree and careened back across the road. This was a quiet neighbourhood, so thankfully no one other than the unfortunate occupants had been at risk from flying metal and glass shrapnel.

Melody stood for a few seconds, staring, utterly transfixed and horrified by the sight before her.

As the flames die down, she spotted something in the grass lining the road – a fanned mop of vivid red hair.

_Oh gods. There's someone there._

She raced over. The red-headed girl was face down in the grass, her leather jacket – _why the hell is she wearing a leather jacket in this weather? –_ and skirt both torn and covered in earth. A sick nausea built in her throat, and she forced down a retch. _She must have been inside the car and thrown clear. Oh god oh god oh god..._

She turned the red-headed girl over so she lay on her back, expecting to be face to face with a corpse.

Instead, stunningly, the girl groaned, recoiled a little, drew her arms protectively into her chest.

_How the hell-?_

Melody looked the girl up and down. With a slim figure, long legs and a round, angelic face framed by thick ginger hair, the girl was patently stunning – at least, she would be when she wasn't covered in scars and dirt, hair frayed and face discoloured due to bruising. The teenager felt a strange feeling blossom within her – a deep-seated, intense concern and a sense of responsibility for the injured girl.

"Hello?" Melody called out, shaking the girl gently by the shoulders. "Can you hear me?"

The girl opened her eyes. They were a vibrant emerald-green, deep, perceptive. And right now they were filled with pain and confusion. "Y-yes," she whispered.

"What's your name?"

The girl closed her eyes again as if trying to recall something, paused, groaned. "Jac... Jacqueline," she told Melody after a moment. "Help..."

"It's alright, Jacqueline. My name is Melody, and I'm here for you," Melody told the girl. She dove a hand into her pocket and retrieved her phone, fumbling it with trembling fingers as she dialed the direct number for the ambulance. "Hello? I need an ambulance on Redfern Street, _right now!_ There's been a car accident and a girl who's been thrown clear of the car, but she's still alive and conscious..."

* * *

**II.**

A name.

That's all she has.

All she remembers is her first name – Jacqueline. She'd been found quite literally in a ditch, having been thrown from a car accident. How she'd survived... well, miracles were best left unquestioned. She'd been found there by a passing teenage girl, flickering in and out of consciousness as she lay in a crumpled heap.

The blonde-haired girl had taken care of her, rushing her to hospital and watching over her as the doctors assessed her. Astonishingly, she'd escaped with only minor injuries, and was moved from intensive care to a normal ward the next day.

"So what's your name?" The curly-haired blonde girl asked her when she woke.

"Jacqueline. What's yours?"

"Melody. You already told me your first name – what about your last?

She opens her mouth, closes it, frowns slightly. After a few seconds, she finally answers. "Don't remember."

Melody raised her eyebrows. After a few seconds, she decided that Jacqueline wasn't pulling her leg.

"What, you've got no clue?"

"Nope. Don't even remember who my parents are... I have parents, right?"

"Well, they said two people were killed in the accident. Everyone's assumed they were your parents – I'm sorry."

"Accident?"

"Car accident." Melody sighed, grasping the implications immediately. "Bloody hell, do you remember _anything_?"

Jacqueline concentrated – hard, on anything she could. But whatever she tried came up blank. She doesn't even know how she manages to walk and talk – it just sort of... happens. It was if someone had taken her mind, tipped it upside-down, poured all the contents out.

"No."

Who the hell was she?

* * *

**III.**

**May, 2010.**

It only got more confusing from there. The two people killed weren't blood-related to her at all, so that threw a rather massive spanner in the works. Whoever they were, they weren't her parents – and they hadn't adopted any children, so that was ruled out. So no one knew who her true parents were either.

No, Jacqueline was most definitely not an ordinary girl.

She becomes an enigma. A seventeen year old teenager with no past. And she doesn't even look seventeen – closer to twenty-odd – but given that this was the only other piece of information about her life that Jacqueline actually remembers, everyone ran with that too. She's especially tall, for one thing, so that probably makes her look a little older than she really is.

Experts, therapists, doctors and bureaucrats scratch their heads, wondering what to do with this strange amnesiac girl. Blood tests, cross-checks with missing person databases, even one TV ad campaign – they all turn up nothing. No one has a clue where she comes from – though a few experts, based on her facial characteristics and flaming red hair, had suggested a Scottish heritage. Indeed, Melody had thought she heard a trace of Scottish lilt when she'd first spoke, but that was rapidly submerged in the generic Australian accent of her surrounds. And besides, 'possible Scottish heritage' is hardly the dealbreaker everyone is looking for.

Eventually, they decide that the best thing for this girl to do is find someone to stay with and try to give her a normal life. Melody and her family instantly volunteer to take care of her, the two girls having bonded magnificently, but the 'normal life' part is trickier. That means going to school... a problem, because while she can talk normally (and is surprisingly articulate), she can't really remember anything about school, either. But she's lucky – by sheer chance, all the teachers needed are available at Melody's school and willing, and a mysterious benefactor had covered all the financial stuff.

They predict that if she's fortunate, she'll catch up within several years' time.

* * *

**IV.**

**March, 2011.**

It doesn't even take one.

What they hadn't factored in that on top of stunning looks which made heads turn, eyes widen and tongues wag, Jacqueline had serious brains. In fact, it is the universal consensus that Jacqueline was by far the smartest girl anyone had come across. She could literally read a textbook from cover to cover in a matter of weeks and shown just as good an understanding of the material as anyone else could. OK, she was a long way from the top of her class, but everyone else had effectively had a decade's head-start.

It is freakish, and it only adds to the mystery surrounding her. Who is this bona fide genius girl that turned up in a ditch somewhere?

Predictably, she becomes an entirely accidental superstar at school, and a polarising one at that – most of the boys are in love with her, most of the girls despise her. She tries to ignore them all – her life is messed up enough as it is. She didn't ask to be all this. All she wants is a sense of normalcy, solidity – some people she could talk to like a normal person, and it's tough to do that when almost everyone is either hitting on her or sneering contemptuously at her. Granted, that she is also a tad eccentric and more than a little cocky doesn't help, but that's just who she is.

Through all of this, there's this overriding, consuming sense that this life isn't it, isn't her, isn't meant to be.

She yearns for something more. Something that shows her who she really is.

* * *

**V.**

**December, 2011.**

It's the most natural thing to do, really. There isn't any argument about it. After a year of being taken care of by the Clarke family, they decide to adopt her – Melody had always wanted a sister.

It's a surprise to no one. Their kinship had been immediately evident – it was almost as if this is meant to be. Jacqueline would have called it an amazing coincidence that the person who found her was just the person she needed in her life and vice versa, but she doesn't believe in coincidences.

She can't express in words how much her now-sister means to her. Melody is the constant in her strange, nonsensical life. When she goes into one of her deep reveries, her sister is always by her side, asking exactly the right questions, saying the right things.

Like on one sweltering summer's day, not long after the girls have finished high school together (that they did so together is considered nothing short of miraculous on Jacqueline's part, even if her marks don't look outstanding on their own).

"All right, Jac?" Mels asks as Jacqueline sits on the veranda staring aimlessly into the distance, alone – as she often does.

"Yeah, fine." Brilliant or not, she's a terrible liar, and both know it.

"Sure. Come on, sis, what's up?"

"Well, apart from my life making no sense, nothing."

She places a consoling arm across the redhead's back. "You've done a bloody good job finding your way thus far, Jacqueline. I'm sure your memory will come back one day."

"Maybe." A thought suddenly struck her. "Say... have you ever heard of a girl called Amelia Pond?"

"Nope, never. Why?"

"You know when you found me, there was that unlocker thing in my pocket?"

"Yeah. Have they worked out what it was for?"

"Nah, but I found a little name."

"What was it?"

Jacqueline had been found with only one item on her. A cylindrical silver cylinder with a blood-red crystal fixed in claw-like appendages to one end. The device seemed able to lock and unlock any door, which was neat but not all that useful (as well as having questionable legality), so she rarely took it out of her bedside drawer. But sometimes, when the fire within her is burning too brightly, she would take it out and inspect it for any clues as to who she really is. She'd never found anything.

Until last night, when she'd found a tiny engraving.

"Amelia Pond."

"Nice name."

"Yeah. Like a fairytale..." They moved on, going into small talk, but Jacqueline's mind is elsewhere.

Who was Amelia Pond?

* * *

**If you're up to date with LOTTL, the title is a big clue as to what's gone on here. A reminder that you should consider most canon divergence as **_**deliberate.**_

**You might have noticed that Amy herself is not present, though many of you will have 'spotted' her. That'll be the case for the first few chapters, but Amy **_**will**_** be present and in fact be the central character in this story. So hold on. The setting, by the way, is fictional to the extent that it is a recreation of places I'm familiar with, but not an exact replica of any real parts of Sydney.  
**

**Once again, please review if you can. Especially if I've stuffed up my tenses!**


	2. Jacqueline

**Brief aside. Pond Life is sort of brilliant. If you haven't seen it yet, you must. Asylum was very good as well, and although I don't think we'll see Oswin again, Jenna looks like she's up for the job when it comes around for real. In fact I liked Oswin so much that I might have to recalibrate this story and/or LOTTL to fit her in somehow...**

**Anyway. Time to get started. If you're still wondering_ why_ these are being uploaded now when I know I have other things to work on, these chapters have been more or less written since last year. I know, I know...**

* * *

_Is this the real life?  
Is this just fantasy?  
Caught in a landslide,  
No escape from reality  
Open your eyes,  
Look up to the skies and see...  
_

**CHAPTER 1. Jacqueline**

* * *

**I.**

**Deep space.  
**

He hadn't been into this room for years.

Ten of them, in fact.

He'd cleaned out every other single room in the time machine, deleted half of them, remade that half back over, yet not once in a long decade of solitude had he ever bothered to walk into this room.

He wasn't even here on purpose. He'd been intending to grab a thermocoupling from the workshop to stop the old girl wheezing so loudly (she'd been very _vocal_ over the last year or so, assuming of course that it even made sense to talk about a vocal time machine). But the TARDIS was the TARDIS, and he'd suspected for a while that she'd been trying to make a point to him.

Well, he wasn't finished yet, so _no_, he told his ancient time machine. He would come back for her when he was ready... when _she_ was ready.

That his idea of 'ready' was completely different from hers... well, he didn't think about such things.

Until, of course, the TARDIS decided to switch the doors, and instead of grabbing a thermocoupling, he'd found himself in a bedroom. _Her_ bedroom. The walls were still that deep, familiar shade of blue, the four poster bed was still unmade. There was still those shortcuts to the kitchen and the library-slash-swimming-pool that he'd installed for her so long ago. One wall was still covered in both still and moving images, two happy, joyous faces as the pair of them had cavorted through all of time and space for that breathless, magical time.

Everything was just as he remembered... except for one thing. One parting gift she'd never told him about, that he'd never known about.

Until now.

He folded up the letter and placed it back on the table, his crystal-blue eyes star bright as he gazed at the central, largest picture.

It was time.

"I'm coming for you, Amelia Pond."

* * *

**II.**

**June 21, 2015. Australia.**

It was Friday.

Friday night, specifically. Usually the time to unwind, relax, take a few hours off – 'get loose', to use the local vernacular. A time to drink, be merry, and drink some more. It definitely wasn't the time to be sitting at a workdesk, staring aimlessly at the twilight sky. Certainly not on a night as calm as this.

But for one twenty-two year old girl, this was exactly how she had chosen to spend the evening. Staring out her window, waiting for the stars. She tried to justify to herself that it wasn't a good time to be walking around outside at night nowadays, given the spate of recent disappearings, but that was a pretty pathetic excuse even by her own admission.

To be fair, it _was_ winter.

She flicked on the radio, hoping to hear something nice and distracting.

"...the University continues to assure parents and the public that every effort is being made to ensure that the students staying at Wattle College are safe, and that they are getting to the bottom of the string of mysterious disappearances. However, the family of Peter Rowland, who disappeared over a month ago now, lashed out today in an..."

She sighed. _Great._ As if _that_ would help. She clicked off the radio again, having no interest in hearing yet another story about one of the six people who had gone missing in the last month. The police were baffled; there was no rhyme, reason or suspicious circumstances surrounding any of them, they'd simply... vanished. For no apparent reason.

It was both mysterious and really quite unnerving, since Jacqueline had known four of them, and known Peter Rowland quite well. They'd even dated once upon a time. Briefly. Very, very briefly.

Okay, well, at least she hadn't tried to tell the police that they were friends – she'd been dragged in for questioning, on the basis that she had claimed to be the last person to see him before he disappeared into the aether (she'd bumped into him as he was rushing to class).

That hadn't been fun.

Her phone beeped. She half-heartedly picked it up, and without even moving her head read the text message, though secretly quite grateful for the excuse to think about something else. The text was from her sister – well, technically, her adopted sister – Mels.

_Hey Jac. Having drinks with Kevin. In? Mels xx_

She paused, thought about it for a second, two seconds – then expertly manipulated her thumb across the keypad to send her reply. _No, sorry._ It was short, sharp, and verging on rude – and so fairly typical of her. Only Mels could get away with calling her 'Jac'. Just as she was the only one who got away with calling her sister 'Mels' – to everyone else, her sister's name was Melody.

And hers was Jacqueline.

She was an odd girl. Always had been. That was the first word that came to mind when people tried to describe her. Enigmatic was a popular description. As were 'bonkers' and 'shit-scary'. And, to be perfectly honest, they were all correct.

Hell, she didn't even really 'get' herself. Her life made zero sense. She had no parents. She'd never had parents – they had died long ago. Or so she assumed. Because she honestly couldn't really remember. In fact she didn't really remember anything before she was seventeen. Oh, there were flashes, brief images – but nothing comprehensible, and nothing that gave any clues to what her life, who she was...

* * *

"_So, what's your name?"_

"_Jacqueline."_

"_Jacqueline..."_

_She sighs. This is the fifth time she's answered this question today. And, for the fifth time, she says those same three words. The girl who rescued her, the nice one – Melody, was that her name? – had left for school, leaving her alone in the hospital with the nurses._

"_I don't know."_

_The white-suited nurse nods, marking something on his clipboard. He'd seen amnesia before, but rarely this extreme._

"_So can you remember... well, anything? Anything other than your name and your age?"_

_Jacqueline swallows._

"_I..."_

_Images flash through her mind. A deep blue telephone box. A forest full of stone statues. A floppy-haired man in a tweed jacket. A flash of white. A towering block of glittering amethyst. She screws up her eyes, thinking, concentrating, trying to hold on to those wisps of memory, traces of a very different past..._

"_I can't."_

* * *

Jacqueline shook herself out of the reverie.

_It's not 2010 any more, genius. It's 2015 and your sister is probably having a riot with her boyfriend while you're sitting here staring out your window._

Five years had passed. Gradually, she'd managed to accept that her life, her gifts, her amnesia – they were part of who they were. For all her flaws, she was incurably optimistic – she decided to take it as an opportunity to forge the life that _she_ wanted.

It took a while, buckets of tears, a few shouting matches with her sister – she had a hell of a temper, which Mels joked was her inner Scot coming out – but she had managed to forge an identity for herself. It wasn't much of an identity – smart, hot but very much single girl who just happened to love flirting with every boy in town – but it was who she was. Jacqueline Clarke.

She'd gone through Year 12 along with her sister, to everyone's surprise, gone on a whirlwind gap-year tour of the world, again with her sister, then settled into a double degree at the best university she could find – that her sister could enrol in too, of course. She majored in Astronomy and History – a strange combination, but she didn't care. She had an actual life now. A real, normal, life.

But yet.

For over three years now, a single name had consumed her. Who was _that_ girl? Could it be... her? Was that who she really was? The thought had dug itself into a mind like a parasite and it had infected her, spawning doubts and weaknesses in her defences.

Could the identity she'd fought so hard to define be completely false?

It became an obsession of hers. She scoured the internet for any and all information about the name 'Amelia Pond' she could possibly find. The more she looked, the more her results were fruitless, the higher the panic rose in her chest – could it possibly be her true name?

Then, last year, she'd found what she was looking for. A nondescript news article, in a tiny English village called Leadworth... a story about a girl called Amelia – or, rather, Amy – Pond disappearing. Her heart had been momentarily in her mouth until she saw it was dated June 2010. Months after she'd turned up on the wayside.

Whoever this Amelia Pond was, it surely wasn't _her._ Despite the fact that she was listed as Scottish. Despite the fact that there was a passing mention to flowing red hair. Despite all the coincidences that lined themselves up – though she had never believed in coincidence – unless Amelia Pond had somehow invented time travel, which seemed a tad unlikely, Jacqueline Clarke was a different person to her. Melody, for her part, had taken one look at the article, laughed at her and called her a moron for worrying so much.

Still...

The simple fact was that the only clue, the only hint about her past life came from this name, this device.

She sighed, swivelled in her chair, flipped up her laptop and opened to the page she'd found those years before. That article from that little English village. She read it absently, lost in her own world once again when a little chime told her she had new mail. A few mouse clicks later, and her email page was open, revealing a new email from John Smith.

Her eyebrows leapt into her hairline. John Smith was the email handle of her mysterious benefactor, who had kindly covered all her school, uni and medical fees (medical mostly meaning therapists) ever since she'd been found. Every now and then he'd drop her a line, usually containing a cryptic message that she couldn't comprehend, and occasionally even bizarre symbols she couldn't read, though not for a lack of trying. She'd sent a few confused and occasionally pissed-off emails in response, but those never got a reply.

She didn't mind – bonkers man or not, he sure as hell had made her life a lot easier than it could have been. She'd briefly considered trying to track him down herself, but John Smith was evidently clever with an email client, and the electronic trail had run dry in short order. She didn't even consider investigating the name – _can you get a more generic name than John Smith?_

No, whoever this John Smith was, he was taking great pains not to be identified.

She lazily double-clicked the email, expecting to find yet more unreadable gibberish.

Instead, what she found was the shortest email she'd ever received, written in plain English.

_Check your mail._

She didn't even bother to close the laptop and shut the door in her rush downstairs.

* * *

**III.**

"So is Jac coming?"

"Oi. Only I get to call her Jac," Melody Clarke reminded her boyfriend, her voice only just audible over the hubbub of the bar.

A double beep suddenly cut through the air, announcing the arrival of a text. Mels retrieved the phone out of her pocket with an expert flick of her wrist, reading Jacqueline's straight-to-the-point reply.

_No, sorry. Jac._

She rolled her eyes, completely unsurprised. Her sister had been in one-of-those-moods lately, and when she got into those, it was borderline impossible to get her out. Mels was certainly capable, but it involved a lot of effort and couldn't be done over text message. As much as she loved her sister, she didn't really feel like putting up with her mood swings tonight. She'd just handed in her Honours thesis, the culmination of four years' hard work. With luck, she'd be graduating in just a few weeks' time. She felt she deserved a night off. _Hell, even I need a bit of time to myself every now and then. _She just wished it could be somewhere... quieter. Less full of the technicolour hubbub that she associated with such public spaces. But the drinks were half price, so that made up for it.

For her part, Jacqueline had been thrilled to hear that Melody had finished her studies – she herself still had a few months to go on her double-degree – but she'd been in a weird mood all week, so had been no surprise when she retreated to her room and cut herself off from the world. Although she couldn't hide from her sister.

"Lemme guess. She's not coming?"

"What a genius you are, Kev."

"Not compared to you, I'm not."

She smiled fondly. "Thanks, sweetie. So who's getting the drinks?"

"Drinks? I think I might be of some assistance there!" Both Mels and Kevin started at the voice. They turned to see a tall, chocolate-brown haired man wearing what Mels could only describe as crimes against fashion. _Tweed jacket and a bow-tie? Seriously?_ He spoke with a crisp English accent, his voice lively and his speech rapid-fire. Mels, however, was most taken by his eyes.

They were crystal-clear and an enigmatic share of blue, like the summer sky on a cloudless day. The closer she looked, however, the more she was struck by the _depth_ of those eyes, the way the pools of colour just seemed to... go forever, holding secrets unimaginable. The man looked in his mid-twenties, but his eyes certainly didn't.

"Um..." Kevin began, utterly taken aback and more than a little suspicious.

"I'll take that as a yes," the man continued. "Back in a mo."

"Wow," Kevin began. "What a weirdo."

"Don't be mean, Kevin, I guess there parts of England that are still stuck in the 1930s," she quipped. Even so, she couldn't help be fascinated by the man.

Less than a minute had passed when he returned with their drinks, laden on a plastic tray. "Mind if I sit? No? Excellent." There wasn't really time to protest before the strange man plonked himself on a chair between Kevin and Mels, passing both their drinks.

"Erm... sorry to be rude-" Mels began.

"Not a problem," the man replied over her.

"Right. Sorry to be rude, but who the hell are you?"

Without warning, the man slapped his own forehead. "Ah, how silly of me, this is the 21st century, not the 31st. Introductions come first, drinks after."

They blinked. _What the bloody hell is he on about?_

"I apologise. Anyway, my name's the Doctor. Or John Smith. Or Get-Off-This-Planet... although I don't think that's actually a name..." he trailed off, frowning as if the oddness of the title had just occurred to him. A second later, he brightened up again. "But you can just call me the Doctor."

"Doctor who?" Kevin asked, slightly nonplussed by the man's self-introduction.

"Brilliant question."

"Wait – so you're John Smith?"

"Well, actually, I'm the Doctor. But sometimes I go by John Smith, when I feel like it."

"My sister gets emails from John Smith from time to time. He pays all her bills and stuff, she'd really struggle without it."

"How interesting. What's your sister's name?"

"Jacqueline Clarke. Mine is Melody, by the way, and this is my boyfriend, Kevin."

"Pleased to meet you, Melody." Without warning, he grabbed her cheeks and kissed the air about ten centimetres either side of her face, letting go again. He frowned. "Wait – that's not how people greet each other these days, is it? Ah, old age is catching up with me and all..."

Mels and Kevin shared a look.

"Right," Mels began, a bit less confidently than before. Yeah, this man – was he _seriously_ called the Doctor? – was fascinating, but he was also a complete loon. "So are you really John Smith? The same John Smith?"

"There are a lot of John Smiths in the world," the Doctor replied cryptically.

"True, but my sister has a mysterious benefactor called John Smith whom she's almost certain is an alias, and then a random bloke with an alias of John Smith walks up to us one night and buys us drinks."

A smile in return, one that was almost... _knowing?_

"Your sister sounds like a clever girl."

"You have no idea."

"You'd be surprised."

_Cocky too, huh?_ "Right. Either way, it's a hell of a coincidence. And neither me nor Jacqueline really believe in coincidences."

"The universe throws up coincidences from time to time. Doesn't make them particularly meaningful."

"True. But I've got a funny feeling this one ain't mere coincidence." The Doctor's deft dodges only spurred her on, stoked her curiosity. Without warning, he left out a great booming laugh which attracted a few odd looks from nearby patrons.

"You're good, Melody Clarke. You're very, very good. Normally at this stage I'd make a joke about Amy being fired... but she's not here, is she? But she will be, soon... anyway, it was lovely meeting you, Melody. And you, Kevin. I'll see you around." With that, he stood, having not so much as touched his own drink, and disappeared back into the throng of patrons.

"What a headcase," Kevin commented.

Melody didn't reply, her eyes still fixed on the place where the Doctor had vanished into the crowd.

_Who the hell is Amy?_ _More the point, who the hell was he?_

* * *

**IV.**

Jacqueline didn't know why she was buzzing, but she was. From head to toe, a restless, excited energy had filled her, bursting with life because of the email from John Smith. What had he sent her in the mail? He'd never sent anything in the mail before, it was usually just bank deposits and cryptic emails.

She reached her mailboxes, and quickly located hers. So excited was she that she'd even brought the unlocker out for this, not even bothering with keys. The box slid open without her even touching it, and she peered inside.

There were envelopes, letters from the usual suspects... and a golden fob watch. She picked it up, entranced.

It was _beautiful._

The chain was at least two feet long, and coated in the same gleaming gold foil that coated the watch itself. She hung it before her eyes, mesmerized by the way the watch shone and flickered as it slowly rotated it before her. There were markings on the face, ornate and complex. She grabbed the watch in her hand to take a closer look.

She gasped. _Oh my god. _The markings on the watch, on closer inspection, were astonishingly similar to the strange symbols John Smith sometimes sent in his emails. _Could they be the same?_

She pocketed the unlocker, sprinted up the staircase and barrelled down the corridors to her room, narrowly avoiding knocking over one or two surprised and indignant people on the way. She slammed the door shut behind her and sat back down at her desk. Just as she'd left it, her email was still open on her laptop. She browsed through, looking for one of the most recent emails from John Smith. _Student Services... Mels... Gotcha! John Smith._

She opened the email, revealing an array of ornate but unintelligible symbols plastered across her screen. She held the fob watch against the screen, comparing the two carefully. Her eyes lit up as she moved across.

They were the same. All of them. For each symbol on the watch, there was a perfect match in this email. Excitement flooded through her, and she began to bounce up and down on her chair, giddy with delight. Here, at last, were clues!

A pity, then, that she still had no idea to _read_ the symbols.

It was like someone had poured a bucket of cold water in her head. Her giddiness vanished as she was reminded that this email was still, to her eyes, complete gibberish.

She looked at the fob watch again. _Should I open it?_

A sudden fear gripped her, and she clasped her fist around the object, determined not to let it open even by accident. She didn't know _why_ she didn't want to open it... she just knew that somehow, it was probably not a good idea. Yet.

Suddenly, a double beep pierced the air. Bemused, she picked her phone off the desk, and was stunned to see a message from her sister. _Wasn't she going out?_ She opened the text.

_Hey Jac. Met someone weird. Want to talk to you about it. Meet me in the usual place._

She stuffed the golden watch back in her pocket, and within seconds she was at her dresser, ruffling through her clothes to find a suitable coat. It was winter, after all.

* * *

Melody leaned against a tree whilst she waited, staring down the wide, tree-lined grassy strip that was University Avenue. Her gaze drifted upwards to the now pitch-black night sky. Stars twinkled invitingly at her, almost beckoning her to just rise up and join them in a journey of exploration. Like her sister, she'd always been a compulsive stargazer, although she didn't quite have her sister's eidetic memory for names and constellations. Archaeology was much more straightforward. And less noisy, which was a big thing for her - silent, peaceful libraries were very much in her comfort zone.

"So I thought you were going out." She turned to find her sister striding towards her, her fiery locks shining vivdly even in the moonlight.

"Too many people, too much noise, too much colour. Not in the mood for a crowd tonight," Mels replied. "Don't worry, Kev understands."

"Sure? Cutting dates short doesn't strike me as a good plan." Jacqueline plonked herself on the ground, resting against the tree next to her sister.

"Trust me on this, Jac. I know a hell of a lot more about this stuff than you do."

Jacqueline chuckled. "Alright, I'll take your word for it, you being the expert and all. Though what if he's not so fine with it?"

"We'll cross the bridge when we get there. It was _my _thing after all." Mels paused for a second. "Have you thought about actually _finding_ a boyfriend, sis?"

"Yeah."

"Let me guess. You then decided not to get one."

"Pretty much."

Mels shook her head. "Sweetie, you're going to have to find someone _some _day."

"Not today. Besides, I don't need a boyfriend for emotional support. That's your job."

"True." Boyfriends or not, both girls' first priority was each other. It was quite extraordinary, really, given that they'd not even met six years ago.

"So what'd you call me down here for, Mels? Or did you just want to stargaze?"

"Maybe later. But nah, while we were at the bar, we met someone. Well, I say we met him, more he met us..." She related the story of the Doctor, how he'd given his alias as John Smith, how he'd cryptically suggested that he was the same John Smith who'd been helping Jacqueline all these years.

"Weird," Jacqueline commented once she'd finished.

"I know, eh?"

"What did you say his real name was, again?"

"The Doctor. Funny name, right? Barely even counts as a name, for mine. But then he was just a weird bloke all round – he was wearing a tweed jacket and a friggin' bow tie, of all things. A bow tie!"

Both girls laughed, but Jacqueline's mind had drifted. The words seemed to resonate in her head somehow, going round and round as if beating on some wall in her mind... _the Doctor... bow tie... the Doctor... bow tie..._

She shook her head, clearing it of the distraction. "So you reckon it's the same John Smith?"

"Got a hunch, yeah." Melody's hunches tended to be correct.

"You know, that's funny, because just after you sent me that text, I got an email."

"From John Smith?"

"No, from the Easter bunny. Who'd you think?"

Melody's lip curled. "Well sor-_ree._ Was it just more symbols?"

"Nope. He told me to go check my mail."

Mels sat up straight, leaning off the tree. "He sent you something in the mail?"

"Yep." She reached into her pocket and retrieved the golden fob watch. Even in the dull moonlight, it was still an entrancing sight.

"Wow," Mels breathed, completely taken in. "What's it for?"

"No clue. Haven't opened it yet."

"You should."

Jacqueline hesitated, then shook her head. "Not yet."

The sisters fell silent, gazing up at the beckoning, twinkling stars.

"He also mentioned someone else, you know," Mels finally said, quietly. Night was now several hours old and it was getting stupidly cold, but neither girl cared. This was when they were happiest, alone but together, gazing at the starry sky.

"Who? John Smith?"

"Yeah. Said something about a girl called Amy... about how he missed her but how she'd be coming back. Sort of rung a bell, but not sure why..."

"Hmm, interesting. Rings a bell for me, too. Wonder why that name seems so... so..." Jacqueline's speech ground to a halt as her mind raced ahead. _So familiar._

She had been reading that article not fifteen minutes ago.

"_Oh._"

"Jac? What is it?" Mels picked herself off the ground, looking over at her sister in concern. Jacqueline's hand was running up the side of her head and through her thick red hair, as if suddenly struck by an important thought. "Sis – hang on – wait!"

But Jacqueline was already off and running.

* * *

**V.**

She barged into her room five minutes later, panting slightly, eyes wide and cheeks flushed.

_It can't be. I must have read it wrong. _It was unheard of... but the alternative – she didn't know how she would deal with it. How could the only two clues to her identity pop up on the same night at the same time as her benefactor mysteriously gives her a strange gift, and all related to the same man? She sat at her desk, powering up her laptop, impatiently strumming her fingers on the keyboard as the machine whirred into life.

Moments later, her sister came barrelling into her room as well, having struggled to keep up with Jacqueline's long legs.

"Jacqueline, what... what is it?" Mels was panting heavily, sucking in uneven, harsh breaths. Running really wasn't her gig.

The laptop powered up at last. Jacqueline's fingers skated across the keyboard at lightning-speed, bringing up the file she had seen so many times before. An old newspaper article from a little English village named Leadworth.

She read the first line. Read it again. And again.

_'Amelia Jessica Pond, more commonly known as Amy, was declared missing last Friday...'_

Her voice came in a harsh, shellshocked whisper. "It has to be a coincidence. _It has to be._"

A chiming noise indicated the arrival of another email. Somehow, she knew the identity of the sender before she'd even switched windows, let alone opened it. Melody rushed over, as to get a proper look at the three lines of text on the screen.

_The universe throws up coincidences from time to time, _John Smith had written, _but this isn't one of them. _

_Find Amelia Pond, Jacqueline. Find her.  
_

_She's waiting for you._

* * *

**A word on Melody. She was originally slated to be this fic's version of River Song, hence the name and appearance. She still is in some respects, but don't expect her to behave like River (for one thing, she won't be hyper-attracted to the Doctor, in case that isn't obvious already). On that note, I will remind everyone of canon!River and the Silence's absence from this fic, for plotting sanity reasons.**

**Please review etc etc. Would also really appreciate if someone could beta this story, too.**


	3. Melody

**The dream is set just before LOTTL, which is why Amy herself didn't have some kind of sonic on her.**

* * *

_How do people make it through life without a sister?  
- Sara Coprening_**  
**

**CHAPTER 2. Melody**

* * *

**I.**

**June 21, 2015.**

This wasn't usually the time to do a cleaning shift, in the middle of the evening.

But the end of exams meant that everyone had either left for dinner, was at the pub or was otherwise indisposed, so there was nothing wrong with doing a quick vacuum now. Stan moved back and forth up the corridors, hoovering away absent-mindedly as hard rock pounded in his ears.

He wasn't _meant_ to be a cleaner. He'd hoped to be a lot more. But one mistake at school had led to another, and another, and another, and now here he was. Cleaning, because he couldn't find any other way to make ends' meet. Vacuuming, because of an endless list of mistakes that was his life. In his off time, however, he was doing a TAFE course that would, hopefully, see him have a proper job one day.

He finished the corridor, ending at the lift. The lift had been broken for weeks, but no one had quite explained why. Stan glanced at the industrial-sized vacuum – it was really very, very annoying to lug up and down stairs. He took another look at the lift – so far as he could tell, it worked fine.

_Why not?_

He ripped off the tape barring entry and pressed the 'down' button. The lift slid smoothly into place with a ding. Just like it should. The steel doors opened, revealing a dusty but pristine lift inside. Just like it should.

He stepped inside, dragging the vacuum in with him, and pressed the button to the floor below.

It would be the last mistake he ever made.

* * *

Jacqueline's room was less than six metres long and four metres wide. With furniture, that didn't leave a great deal of floor space.

This didn't stop Jacqueline pacing back and forth relentlessly, her head buzzing like a swarm of provoked wasps, her sister sitting cross-legged on the bed and looking deeply apprehensive in the somewhat dull, flickering light.

"You never know," Melody pointed out. "Could just be a wind-up. Or a coincidence."

"It isn't. Ninety-nine percent sure it isn't."

"And the other one percent?"

"Is just one percent. Look, Mels, I just don't see how this can be fake. This bloke calling himself the Doctor just _happens_ to be in the same place at the same time as you and reveals himself to be the same John Smith who's been helping me out all these years. Pretty long odds on a coincidence, don't you think?"

"It was only a guess, nothing certain," Mels countered.

"Reckon there's any chance that guess is wrong?"

Mels sighed. They were both too smart to keep up this pretence for too long. "No. Fine. So this... Doctor guy is definitely John Smith. Then what?"

"Then he happens to name-drop the girl 'Amy', the _only other clue to my identity!_"

"But the engraving says _Amelia_ Pond. Not Amy Pond."

"Obviously she goes by the name 'Amy' to friends and family. That's what the article says."

Melody wasn't a genius, but she was sharp enough in her own right, and the use of present tense wasn't lost on her.

"Jacqueline, she _went missing_ five years ago! Gone, without a trace!"

"Then why do I have an email from John Smith, signed the Doctor – which, by the way, _confirms_ that the bloke you met is the same guy – telling me to 'find Amelia Pond'? Why, Melody? Why would he tell me to do that _if it wasn't a key part of who I was?_"

Jacqueline stopped pacing and plonked herself down next to her sister, who leaned into the redhead and rubbed her shoulder reassuringly. She buried her face in her hands, trying to piece the mess that was her life together. All the doubts, all the possibilities, all the chips in her identity... it was all coming to a head, right now.

"I have to find her. I have to find Amy Pond. And I have to find the Doctor." Her voice was low, steely, determined. Misgivings about what she'd find out be damned – this was her chance, her first real chance, to find out who she really was.

She needed to know.

Melody, on the other hand, was far less sure. "I don't know, sis. What if it completely changes who you are? What if you become unrecognisable, a totally different person?" She tried to keep the fear out of her voice, but couldn't. Jacqueline heard it straight away and took her face out of her palms, her emerald-green eyes meeting her sister's liquid-brown.

"This is seventeen years of my life, sis," Jacqueline murmured. "At least. I have to know, Mels. I can't run away from who I am."

"And the last five?"

"Melody." She placed both her palms on Melody's cheeks, and leaned forward so their foreheads were touching. "You are, and always will be, my sister."

* * *

**II.**

**August 23, 2015.**

_She's running._

_Again._

_Always with the running._

_On this occasion it's an accidentally imported infestation of Vashta Nerada they're trying to evade. Not the time, therefore, to be on a moonlit forest path._

"_Come on, Pond! Almost there!" The man shouts ahead of her, his tweed jacket flapping in the wind, encouraging her to make one final effort, one last desperate dash. She waves her torch left and right, fending off the wave of shadow-dwellers encroaching on her._

_She takes a step too quickly in her haste, overbalances, falls. The torch spills out of her hand. As she scrambles to retrieve it, a wall of utter darkness springs up before her. She's trapped._

_She manages to grab the torch and halt the oncoming black tide just a few metres in front of her. She spins around instinctively, doing the same from behind. She knows that she can't keep this up for long, though – and she really doesn't feel like being turned into dinner this evening._

"_Doctor! A little help?"_

_Nothing. The shadows press in on her. She spins back and forth, holding them at bay. Still he doesn't come._

"_Please, Doctor, don't leave me..." It's one third a demand, one third a plea, one third a frightened whimper._

_Suddenly a beam of light blazes forth from further up the path, the Doctor having used his sonic screwdriver to boost the power of his torch to truly ridiculous levels. She holds her arm across her eyes so she isn't blinded. The Vashta Nerada flee, banished by the scorching light._

"_Amelia Pond, you should know by now that I will never, ever leave you." He grabs her hand and they're off again._

_She smiles as she runs._

_Because, of course, he's right._

* * *

Jacqueline was up, dressed and outside before she was fully aware she was actually awake.

_Fresh air. Need some fresh air._

The sky was a deep, blackish-blue, fading to a creamy-orange at the eastern horizon. It was, by normal standards, absolutely freezing – in fact, Jacqueline suspected that it was indeed below zero degrees Celsius, which was not unusual for this time of year – and she could feel that strange burning sensation on her face as skin objected to being blasted with extreme cold, the sharp bite as the frozen air entered her lungs.

But she loved it. Absolutely adored it. It made her feel so _alive,_ mornings like this. She wasn't stupid, though, so she was well and truly wrapped up, several jackets and coats insulating her body, along with a black woollen beanie. Her thick red hair helped in this regard, too. But the way her breath crystallised in mid-air before drifting off, the way sound seemed to carry with such crispness, such _purity_ in the still pre-dawn air... it was a perfect time, in her mind, to go for a private walk and just _think_.

And today, there was a lot to think about.

She'd had nightmares and strange dreams before. There was one involving stone statues which moved when you didn't look at them which she found kind of frightening, and one involving a completely clean, white room which was deeply unnerving – thankfully, that one was increasingly rare. However, nothing had thrown her as much as this.

Several weeks had passed since the fob watch had arrived in the mail. Several weeks since those once-buried doubts had burst into life again. She'd been on tenterhooks in the days afterwards, even sitting for hours on end checking her email, tapping refresh every minute or so in hope that John Smith – or should she call him the Doctor? – would give her another clue.

But it didn't come. Days turned into weeks, and still nothing. The fob watch remained untouched, although she kept it with her at all times. The Doctor didn't send any more messages.

She'd resolved to find Amelia Pond, find the Doctor – but how could she when she didn't have the faintest idea where to start?

Eventually, when nothing continued to happen, Jacqueline finally sided with Melody – it was a wind-up, that's all. John Smith, after all, was an awfully generic name, and there was no guarantee that the John Smith of that evening was the same John Smith who'd eased her path through life so much. Besides which, she was being awfully selfish – she couldn't run off on some wild goose chase _right now_. Especially not with her sister's graduation being, well, _today._ It was time she put her own problems aside and was there for Melody in her moment of happiness. _For once,_ she thought.

But this...

_It just seemed so... so real. Surreal and yet so real._

It had been her _own_ perspective in the dream. It was _her_ running through the forest. She couldn't well pretend to be someone else.

So why, then, had that man, the Doctor, referred to her as _Amelia Pond? _It was that old doubt again, that old sore that itched all the more agonisingly when she scratched it.

And why had it felt so _real?_ Her first thought upon waking up is that she'd been knocked out and been moved to her bed, so small were the differences between the dream world and the real world. Apart from, of course, the whole deadly moving shadows bit...

She snorted. _Okay. That's enough. Stop being ridiculous._

It was a dream._ A dream. A figment of your over-active imagination. That means not real, Jacqueline Clarke. Get your head in order._

She took in a deep, icy breath and continued her walk, feeling the chill air clear her troubled mind as the sky brightened around her.

* * *

**III.**

She entered the dining room an hour later, the sun having well and truly risen and breakfast now being served. A slow trickle of people, mostly that rarest of breeds, the early-rising student like her, made their way into the dining hall for cereal, toast or whatever else there was to eat. Amongst them was her sister, who quickly moved her way to Jacqueline and plopped herself down opposite her.

"Morning."

"Hey."

"You're not usually an early riser," Jacqueline commented, eyeing Mels closely.

"Yeah? Thought I might make a change for today. See what's so flash about it," Mels joked as she scooped up a spoonful of corn flakes.

Jacqueline wasn't convinced. "You OK?"

Mels frowned, taken aback. "'Course I am."

Jacqueline examined her face, her eyes narrowed. _Flushed, splotchy cheeks. Bloodshot eyes... she's been crying. A lot. _"My ass you are."

"Shut up, Jac. Seriously. I'm fine." She tried to make her voice firm and strong but it didn't quick stick. Jacqueline knew her too well.

"Mm-hm." Jacqueline locked eyes with her sister, her fierce gaze probing. Her voice lowered, softened. "Come on, Mels. No secrets, remember? Whatever you need, I'm here." Melody held her gaze for a few more seconds, her eyes darting between Jacqueline's imporing emerald-green, before averting.

Jacqueline didn't remember. That was painfully obvious. It was, after all, four years ago. The wounds hadn't been as deep for her as they'd been for Melody – some things were just harder for her to forget.

Yes, part of Melody wished that Jacqueline remembered, part of her _demanded_ that Jacqueline remember without Melody having to tell her. Enough that, no, Melody _wouldn't_ tell her if she didn't remember. Not least because she didn't want to talk about it. Not today.

It was a stark reminder, however, that Jacqueline was her _adopted_ sister. That didn't mean the redhead wasn't her sister, her real sister, but it did mean that there was a gap there, a distance between them that couldn't be breached. Not that Melody hadn't tried, of course, but they were different people. Headstrong, yes, but different. For one thing, Melody was much more open with her emotions than her sister, and especially about the fact that there was nothing – _nothing_ – she feared more than losing Jacqueline.

Nothing.

But, nevertheless, there was just _something_ about Jacqueline – well, many somethings – that simply didn't make sense. Aspects of her sister's personality which couldn't quite be explained. Inexplicable flashes of raw fury, wild mood swings, and an intellect that seemed too good to be true.

Certainly too good for Melody to easily overlook the fact that Jacqueline had forgotten that her _parents_, albeit adopted parents, had died four years ago to the day.

"It's nothing. Really."

"Melody-"

"Drop it, Jacqueline," Melody cut across her firmly. "Not today, OK? Graduation day is not the time for arguments."

They'd had a few of those recently, with Melody trying to convince her sister to finally drop her obsession, with only limited success. It had taken its toll – a few weeks ago, they'd had a shouting match that was _so_ severe that they didn't speak to each other for days. Their friends had been worried, but neither girl backed down.

They were much too stubborn for that.

Eventually, though, Melody _had_ gotten through, and Jacqueline had decided to drop the subject. For the time being, at least – until Melody graduated.

Which happened to be today.

"I didn't mean-"

"I know you didn't, sweetie," Melody rubbed her sister on the shoulder as reassuringly as she could. "Just eat your breakfast."

* * *

"So I had this really weird dream this morning."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Like, seriously weird."

"Moving-statues level weird?"

"More."

They were in Melody's room now, Jacqueline helping Mels arrange on the black gown that was the centrepiece of Melody's academic dress. A ocean-blue silk slash ran across her chest and over one shoulder, and the black corner-cap clashed rather nastily with her dirty-blonde curls. Melody raised an eyebrow, glancing at her sister in the mirror.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I was in a forest being chased by some sort of... moving shadows. Which would, well, eat me if I got caught by them."

"Sounds weird, but I still reckon the moving statues is freakier."

"It would be if that was all, but I wasn't alone. That guy – the Doctor – was there."

"Really?" Both Melody's eyebrows went up this time.

"Really. He was running with me, and then I fell over. The shadows surrounded me, and I thought I was gonna die – then he did something with his torch, and then the shadows went away."

"And that's it?"

"Not quite. He said something to me before the dream ended..." She screwed up her brow, recalling the last part of the dream. "'Amelia Pond, you should know by now that I will never leave you'. Or something like that."

Melody's eyebrows shot into her curly hair. "He called _you_ Amelia Pond?"

"Yeah. That must have thrown me too, because I woke up straight after that."

"And it was definitely you in the dream? Not dreaming of being someone else?"

Jacqueline shook her head. "Felt way too real to be someone else. Almost as if I was reliving a memory, but I'm pretty sure I've never been chased by flesh-eating shadows before. Probably just a product of my over-active imagination."

Melody laughed. "Yeah, that sounds pretty unlikely to me. Out of curiosity, what did the Doctor look like?"

"Like a weirdo. Tweed jacket, bow-tie, and braces. Not a good combination. Exactly like how you described him, actually."

Melody laughed. "Definitely with you on the overactive imagination bit, then."

"Don't think the guy you met was as good-looking as the guy in my dream, though."

"What d'you mean?"

"Well, this guy was actually pretty hot. Not in a chiselled-short of hunk kind of way, more a quirky, dashing sort of way."

Unexpectedly, Melody frowned. "Describe him for me."

"Mels, I don't think you can get it on with guys in my dreams, somehow."

"Being serious, Jac. Go on. Describe him."

Jacqueline furrowed her brow. "Well – OK. Mid-twenties, tall, skinny, floppy, dark-brown hair, big, squarish jaw and blue eyes." She paused as she recalled the eyes – they had been by far his most striking feature. So bright, yet so _deep..._ "Strange eyes, too. Looked way older than the rest of him." She frowned. "Why, what's the problem?"

Melody bit her lip, before relaxing again. "Nothing. Come on. I've got a graduation to go to." She straightened the corner-cap and opened the door, letting her sister leave the room first. Behind Jacqueline's back, however, the frown had returned.

Jacqueline had unwittingly given a perfect description of the man Melody had met in the bar several weeks before. _But I never told her what he looked like, only what he was wearing. So how the hell did she know?_

This was becoming far more than a mere coincidence.

* * *

**IV.**

The graduation was smaller than usual – it being the winter graduation rather than the end-of-year – but the theatre hall was still packed to the rafters.

Jacqueline's chest swelled with pride as she watched her sister stride across the stage, degree certificate in hand. It took all her willpower not to jump up and down and cheer like a maniac.

_Maybe later._

"Congratulations!" She squealed after she'd pushed her way through the crowd, finding Melody mingling with some of her friends.

"Cheers. There drinks around here? Throat feels like it's made of paper."

Jacqueline whipped out two cans of Coke that she'd taken from the food marquee. "It's all they've got," she said somewhat apologetically as she handed Mels a can.

Melody made a face as she took a sip. "One of the most important days of your life and they still can't bring themselves to serve any booze. Ah well."

"Sucks, but can't do anything about it. To the end of exams and assessments!" Jacqueline raised her can, nodding her head as Melody completed the toast.

"Amen to that. Listen, Jac, can you wait a few minutes? I gotta get out of these clothes, they make me look like an oversized vulture."

"I'll come with you," she offered.

"Nah. Go get yourself some food, I'll be back soon enough. Just need a bit of a walk." With that, she was off, walking briskly down the path back towards the dorms. While she did find the academic dress to be the height of ridiculousness, and she felt a little light-headed from the multicoloured wash that accompanied the constant applause, neither was the main reason for her sudden departure.

She could have sworn she'd just seen a rather familiar tall, dark-haired man in a black tuxedo flash past.

* * *

The Doctor had always liked graduations. So many young, excited minds receiving the fruits of their labour, of their work and intelligence. And the dresses! They were brilliant. He reminded himself to get a square-cap one day. It'd be a worthy replacement for the fez to go with the top hat he was currently wearing. He'd lost his last one down a ice volcano on Titan last February – that one _definitely_ hadn't gone to plan.

_Did it ever?_

There was nothing special here to do here, though. Just watching, protecting, caring from a distance. Something he didn't do... ever, really. But then he'd always made exceptions for Amelia Pond.

Even if she wasn't Amelia Pond right now, but Jacqueline Clarke. And human.

But even like this, the Doctor's hearts couldn't help but swell with pride with what she had achieved in five years.

It had been _his_ fault the chameleon arch had corrupted at the last moment, wiping almost all of her generated past. He'd known it would happen – a category-seven mind as severely fractured as hers simply wasn't meant to handle such processes. He'd even told her it would happen. But she insisted, as she always did. Once again, his love for her had overridden his good sense. He would do anything for her... even if the consequences could be terrible. He had seriously, for a brief moment, considered pulling out of the plan, but he knew she would know instantly. And once the process had started it was kind of impossible to stop.

So he'd had to think quick and create an adequate cover story for her before she woke up in the TARDIS. Amnesia and a car accident did the trick. He'd found one in a suburban corner of Australia, where two people (_another_ _two people he couldn't save..._) had died instantly, and his time machine had taken care of the rest.

Then he'd run away.

Ten years he'd been running, wiping out all trace of her existence from history. He'd been equally relentless, never stopping, leaving no stone, record or source untouched. He'd done some things he definitely wasn't so proud of. Not killing, no – but things he wasn't proud of nonetheless. _It had to be done. For her._

But a decade later, and he was sure that the trail she'd left had gone. She was safe again.

After that, he'd simply watched her from afar. Sometimes through email, sometimes through the electronic web that surrounded everyone, sometimes in person – but careful never to show himself.

He'd seen her forge an identity out of the ashes, forge a new life. Clearly, the chameleon arch had done absolutely nothing to Amy's near-endless store of steely determination, nor had it changed her incurably optimistic outlook on life. An outlook he often didn't share.

But she hadn't done it alone. Not at all – while he'd helped her from afar, someone had been by her side the whole time. Where _he_ should have been. Where he couldn't be.

He couldn't express how grateful he was to Melody Clarke, the curly-haired girl who'd taken her in, befriended her, given her the family she'd never, ever had. In many ways, he felt terrible that he was about to turn everything upside down for her. But a plan was a plan, and Amy would kill him twice if he deviated from it. A shame, then, that he'd already done so, the one year having turned into five.

He couldn't do it.

He couldn't barge into her life again, destroy what she'd created, not when she had the chance of that most special, precious of things – a normal life. So he simply watched, and protected from afar.

Then he caught wind of the disappearances, traced them back, found the signs, and decided that enough was enough.

He'd sent the fob watch several weeks ago, hoping that that alone would be enough. But no – its perception filter was too strong. She wouldn't be able to open it until she was ready. Watching her at the graduation ceremony, he'd felt absolutely nothing that indicated any psychic activity beyond that of ordinary humans, let alone a Time Lord – and _definitely_ nothing like Amy's intense, almost overbearing psychic presence. So he had to give her a little more... encouragement. He decided not to approach her directly, that would have been a little... forthright, but he had his methods nonetheless.

He'd left her with nothing but her sonic screwdriver – in case of emergencies. That meant that both her diaries were still on the TARDIS. He'd barely touched the spiral-bound black one, the one she'd kept through school. It still made his skin crawl, knowing he'd been responsible for all the hurt contained within. No, he definitely didn't want Amy – or, rather, Jacqueline – reading _that._ But he also had the thick, leather-bound TARDIS-blue diary she'd kept of all her adventures with him. Except, of course, for this one.

_That should give her plenty of encouragement._

He strode down the grass-lined path, diary in hand, sonic in the other. He knew that this was his best shot at slipping into her room unnoticed, given how everyone who stayed at the college was either at the graduation or back home with their families. As usual, he was right – upon entering the building, he found it totally deserted. He skipped up the many flights of stairs (cursing the broken lift as he did so), making his way to Jacqueline's room. The nondescript corridors disoriented him a little, and he wasted a few minutes getting lost, but eventually he found the right place.

Unlocking the door with his sonic, he slipped inside. Jacqueline's room was covered in posters – mostly breathtaking images of deep-space nebulae. _Still dreaming of time and space and you can't even remember why_, he thought sadly. Her bed, just like Amy's always had been, was unmade, and her desk a veritable pigsty.

He cleared a space on her desk, accidentally tipping a glass of water onto the ground as he did so. It shattered. _Oops._ _Better finish up here before I wreck the whole room._ He grabbed a pen and scribbled a note. _From the Doctor,_ he wrote, sticking it to the front of the diary and placing the TARDIS-blue book on the desk.

Work done, he straightened his bowtie and turned to leave – finding himself face to face with a mass of dirty blonde curls and a very pissed-off pair of light hazel eyes. He gulped.

"Ah. Hello. Bad moment?"

* * *

**Please review. Even if anonymous. Only way I can get feedback.**


	4. The Man In The Top Hat

**So I'm both looking forward to and _really not_ looking forward to these two weeks. Gonna be one hell of an emotional ride... anyway.  
**

* * *

_"She could see things the way he could, think the way he thought, have a glimpse into the way he felt. A decade previously, he had despairingly come to the conclusion that he would never feel such a special kinship again, the one that only came with another of his species. To be able to experience it again... there were no words."_

**CHAPTER 3. The Man In The Top Hat**

* * *

**I.**

**August 23, 2015.**

It wasn't often that Melody Clarke got angry. It was usually her sister who had the volcanic temper, a glare that could strip paint and a tone, when used, that was more corrosive than the strongest of acids. She, on the other hand, was too naturally sweet to be like that on a regular basis – but when she got angry, boy, did she show it.

She stood, giving the man a death glare which even Jacqueline would have been proud of, her arms folded over her chest, and electricity all but crackling in her eyes and wild hair. She could see the man wilting under her gaze.

_Good_.

"Trust me, I left everything just where I found it." No answer. "I'll – I'll just be off then, shall I?" He made to leave, but in his haste tripped over a chair leg in the cluttered room, landing on all fours right in front of her.

She tried – and _almost_ succeeded – to stop her lip curling at the sight of him prostate before her. He let out a frustrated splutter. "Kids these days, can't keep their room straight. Not like in the old times – Versailles in 1781, now _there's_ interior design for you. Well, actually, exterior design as well, it had the most magnificent gardens. And the library! It had the-"

"_Are you going to shut up now?"_ As the man rambled, Melody had more or less decided that the man wasn't malicious – he simply didn't look the type – but even so, he'd _broken into her sister's room._ She wondered how he'd done it – by the looks of things, he'd just strolled straight through the door as if it was unlocked. She knew that Jacqueline wouldn't have made such a basic error. "Or shall I just call the police, _Doctor_?" She asked, in a voice that was razor-sharp.

"Er – yes. No! No, sorry. Don't do that. That would be very much not good." The Doctor replied, nervously straightening his white bow-tie. Now that Melody's fury had abated slightly, she could see that he was certainly dressed for an occasion – frankly, he looked quite dashing in his spotless white shirt and pitch-black tuxedo, even in the oddly flickering light. And she couldn't remember the last time he'd seen a man in a top-hat.

"_So..."_

"I was just delivering a gift to your sister – wait, this is your sister's room, right? Not yours?" It would be a rather silly mistake to make – but he'd made plenty before. He stepped slightly to the side, so Melody saw the deep-blue diary on the table for the first time.

Melody's eyes narrowed. "Couldn't you just have given it to her directly? She's at the graduation, and she's not hard to find."

"Sorry, but no. Discretion is paramount for this – don't want to provoke any unexpected reactions."

"So instead you felt that you had to _break into her room_. How did you do that, anyway? How'd you get in?"

"Through the door, obviously," the Doctor replied, somewhat bemused by the question.

"Which was locked."

"Yes, well, there are ways around that." He pulled out a silver, cylindrical object, twirling it in the air. It was similar – no, _identical_ – to Jacqueline's unlocker, save for a bright green crystal held within the claw-like appendages rather than dark crimson. "Sonic screwdriver. Useful for getting in and out of doors, cages, space-bottles and carnivorous fruit. Very good on fruit."

Melody disregarded the last, nonsensical part of his little explanation, focussing instead on the device before her. A voice told her that she was being far too open with a man whom she couldn't trust, but... "My sister has one of those."

"I know," he replied, pocketing the device. "I gave it to her."

"You _gave-"_

"Well, OK, technically_ I_ didn't give it to her. In actuality my TARDIS did, but who's counting?"

"What the hell is a TARDIS?"

"It's my, uh, car."

"Your car?" Melody's voice was positively dripping with scepticism.

"It's not like any car you've ever seen, believe me. Although if I ever manage to fix the chameleon circuit, it might at least look like one. Anyway, it was lovely to meet you again, Melody Clarke, but it's time for me to dash." He made to leave, but Melody blocked his path.

"You're not going _anywhere_, mister, until you explain how you know my sister. And what the point of _that-_" she nodded towards the diary "-is."

"What makes you think I know your sister?" Melody didn't answer. "OK. Rubbish lie. Alright. I know your sister."

"You know her really well, even though she's never even met you. I'm not stupid, Doctor, I saw those emails you sent a few weeks ago."

"Yes, I expected as much."

His evasion wasn't lost on Melody, so she decided on a more direct tack. "What's the book for?"

"It's a diary."

"I can see that. Whose diary?"

"A friend's." He smiled gently – a smile filled with a wistful tenderness. With _age._ And love. "Well - more than a friend."

"A lover?"

"An equal."

_He says that as if he hasn't seen her in years... _"Where is she now? Is she still alive?"

"Of course. She's just... hiding. Hopefully she'll come back soon."

"What's in the diary? Can I read it?" She moved forward, but the Doctor held out an arm to stop her.

"Sorry – spoilers. Let your sister read it first."

"Why? No secrets, what's Jacqueline's is mine too."

He smiled warmly at her. "I know. But we all have you break our own rules every now and then again. Let her have first go, OK?"

"You still haven't explained what it's for."

"It's... encouragement." He sighed. "Fine. The truth of the matter is that your sister will soon have to make a huge, life-changing decision that quite frankly has massive ramifications for the fate of the entire universe. This diary will hopefully help her make the _right_ choice. Make sense?"

Melody blinked. It really didn't _(fate of the entire friggin' universe? Melodrama here we go!_) but she chose not to argue the point. "Why do you keep calling her 'my sister'? She has a name, and you know what it is."

He was still smiling, but this smile was softer... sadder. "Yes," he murmured. "Yes, she does." Then, as if a switch had been thrown, his face brightened, an enigmatic light returning to her eyes. "Now, Melody Clarke, I must be off. Don't worry, you'll see me again very soon." He tipped his hat to her and walked out of the room... before stopping in his tracks.

"Is it just me, or did the lights just flicker?"

"Huh? What?" Melody was still distracted by the diary, tossing up whether to open it or not.

"The lights. Did they not just flicker a wee bit? All of them?"

"Oh. That. Yeah, they've been doing that for months," Melody replied casually. At once, the Doctor strode back onto the room and leapt onto the bed, unpocketing his sonic screwdriver as he did so. "Wait – what the hell are you doing?"

The Doctor didn't seem to hear her as he buzzed the sonic up and down the florescent tube on the ceiling. "Standard fluorescent light, wiring is OK, no short-circuits to speak of so it must be a power fluctuation... Melody, how many lights have been doing this?"

"What? Um... er..."

"_How many lights?_"

"Well, all of them, I guess. All over the building."

"All of them... all of them. So it's not a local power fluctuation... Melody, where's the power box for this building?"

"Erm – on the south-east corner, I think."

"Many thanks." He leapt off the bed and jogged out of the room – before turning back and sticking his head through the doorway again. "You coming?"

To say Melody was taken aback was an extreme understatement. "Um - what?"

He rolled his eyes. "Are you, Melody Clarke, coming with me?"

A raised eyebrow. "What for?"

"Well, you've noticed the power going all wibbly around here, haven't you?"

She had no idea what 'wibbly' meant, but she got the gist. "Yeah, of course."

"Would you like to find out why it's happening?"

She folded her arms across her chest, cocking her head slightly. "You're assuming a lot about my curiosity."

"Curiosity is a wonderful thing to assume. Your choice, either way." The Doctor pocketed his sonic and leaned on the doorway, evidently waiting for her decision.

Melody sighed inwardly. Running off with a mad man who had broken into her sister's home to join him on some vague, unspecified adventure – this wasn't too far from a cheap ten dollar pulpy romance she liked to dip into every now and then for a giggle. Her sister would be mortified – and then tease her for the next week if she heard.

But, then, that was what made this different, wasn't it? He wasn't some ordinary guy – and this wasn't some random dalliance. No. There were bigger fish to fry here.

"Erm – OK. Just... just hang on, I need to get changed."

He looked her up and down. "Don't see the need, but whatever floats your boat. Five minutes. South-east corner of the building." And with that, he was gone.

* * *

**II.**

Jacqueline had started tapping her foot on the ground, a bad sign if there ever was one.

Patience had never been her strong point, a fact Melody was fond of making her _very_ much aware of, and her sister had been gone for a good half-hour now.

_Come ON. How long does it take to get changed?_

"Hey, Jacqueline!" It was Kevin, Melody's boyfriend – although, to be quite honest, that term didn't really apply any more, their _thing_ having fizzled out shortly after Melody had left him high and dry a few weeks before. "Seen Melody?"

"She's just going to get changed. She'll be back soon," she told him, although she almost didn't add the word _soon_ to the end.

Kevin wasn't convinced. "I haven't seen her in, like, forty-five minutes. Can't take that long to get changed, surely?"

Jacqueline bit her lip. "Maybe." OK, Melody was picky about what she wore, but never _this_ picky. It wasn't as it she was going on a date or anything. So what the devil was taking her so long?

_Huh. Never used that phrase before. Very British of me._

She shook her head, mentally batting away the distraction – something was amiss here, and she'd always been the slightly paranoid type.

"I'm going to go look for her," she declared, setting down her half-finished can. "Be back in a bit."

"Want me to come with you?" Kevin had been angling for a chat with Jacqueline for a while, for some reason. He'd been unsuccessful as of yet.

She shook her head, taking the first strides away from the crowd towards the college. "Nah. She's just getting changed, that's all."

Despite that, she wondered why she didn't believe her own words. Surely that was it? Just getting changed.

* * *

Within three minutes, Melody had changed to a far more comfortable outfit of jeans and a blue woollen jumper. She jogged past the still-broken lift and down the several flights of stairs, heading for the south-eastern corner of the rectangular building. The Doctor was already there, head buried in the metal box and wires trailing around his shoulders.

"Um... what are you doing?" Melody had a funny idea this was a question she'd be asking a lot.

"Just reorganising the circuitry, make it more efficient." A few sparks flew out of the power box as he spoke, causing Melody to recoil in alarm. "There. Your college's electricity bill is now half of what it was five minutes ago."

"So... is that all you're doing? Saving us money?"

"'Course not, that's just a hobby. But there's nothing interesting here, so never mind." He pocketed his sonic screwdriver and closed the box.

"Right. And here I was thinking you'd be doing something _interesting._"

"And is that a problem? Life isn't always explosions and running."

"I bothered to get changed, Doctor. I was expecting something a bit more interesting than you faffing about in a power box."

Unexpectedly, he grinned toothily at her. "Have I told you I liked you? Now I have. Well then, Melody Clarke, I shall endeavour to give you 'interesting'. But first," He sat on the grass, folding his legs together in the manner of a schoolchild being read to by his teacher. "Let me ask you some questions. One, do you have any fish fingers and custard lying around?"

Melody's jaw hit the ground. "_What?!"_

"I'll take that as a no. Never mind. Two, has there been anything funny happening around here in the last, say, two months?"

"Um..." Melody ground her brain back into her gear, having been stunned by the bizarre request. _Fish fingers and... no. I must have misheard him. _"A little. A few people have gone missing every now, most of them were last seen around here." Some of them were students – college life had taken a real downer in the days after that, with everyone on edge. Things had settled down for some weeks now.

"I've heard about that; I'm sorry. And the lights... have they been flickering like that a lot?"

"Not really, only a little. Not happened in a while, actually..."

"Very interesting. So it's a power fluctuation, and it doesn't come from the source... so that must mean it's the destination..." he drifted off, deep in thought. Suddenly, he sprung back up. "That lift. How long has it been broken?"

"Two months."

"And the lights have been flickering for-?"

"Two months. Yeah, I've noticed. One of those coincidences the universe throws up from time to time?"

"Somehow, I don't think so."

Melody had to sprint to keep up with him as he strode back into the building. Along the way, she just about managed to remember to send a quick message to her sister saying that she'd gotten tied up with something and would be a while. _Don't go looking for me_, she concluded as a warning.

Something told her the Doctor didn't want Jacqueline getting involved in this.

* * *

**III.**

Jacqueline sauntered into the college, now fuming more than a little. She'd been hoping to have met Melody along the way, given her an earful and then headed back together. But there was no sign of her – and it wasn't like Mels to take detours.

_What the hell is she doing?_

She jogged up the stairs two at a time, quickly reaching the floor where both their rooms were. She strode purposefully over to her sister's room, hammering on the door with her fist.

"Oi, Mels! The hell are you doing in there?" She demanded.

Nothing. Not a whisper, not a sound. "Come on, Mels, surely it can't be that hard to get changed?" Still nothing.

She frowned. _Something's not right here. _She reached into the pocket of her jeans and withdrew her crimson-crystal unlocker, opening the door with a click. She pushed it open cautiously. "Melody?"

The room was empty. Not a soul in sight and there sure as hell wasn't room to hide. Melody's academic dress was strewn on the bed and the wardrobe lay half open – evidently, she'd gotten changed in an almighty hurry before running off somewhere. _Where the hell is she?_

Just as her blood pressure was about to rise into alarming territory, her phone double-beeped. She whipped it out with trembling hands, reading the text message.

_Got distracted. Sorry. Don't go looking for me, will be a while – busy. Mels xx_

She sighed. _At least she's safe._ Her overactive imagination had created a vast variety of potential scenarios, and many of them weren't pleasant. She also judged most of _those_ to be highly unlikely, but as far as she was concerned there was no such thing as 'too safe' when it came to Melody. She made a mental note to give her a verbal walloping later, for wasting so much of her valuable time.

She considered going back – and almost instantly dismissed the idea. Really, there wasn't much back there to hold her attention – no booze, no Mels, too many suits. She decided to go back to her room and have a lie-down. She closed the door, locking it again with a buzz and a click, and headed down the corridor to her own room. She placed her hand on the handle and pushed – and found to her surprise that the door swung freely open.

Clearly, it hadn't been locked – but _these_ doors were the kind that locked if you closed them at all. The only way it could be unlocked whilst staying closed was if she'd opened it using her unlocker – which was why she'd had to lock Melody's door on the way out.

_Someone's been using an unlocker on my door. Which means someone's broken into my room._

She barged it open with her body, half-expecting to come across a balaclava-clad man in the middle of ransacking her room. Instead, she found it empty – and pristine. Pristine in the sense that everything was where she'd left it – save for the desk.

The contents had been roughly pushed to one side so as to make some room, and in the space a book had been placed. A thick, hard-bound deep-blue diary. Jacqueline moved over to it and picked it off the desk, running her fingers over the cover.

It had a window patterning on the front, and there was an ever-so-slight coarseness to the cover that indicated that it had been used a fair bit already. She could see from the way some of the pages seemed to crease and bend that there had been plenty written in it already – but there was plenty of blank pages still left as well. She turned it over in her hand, frowning.

_Why does this look and feel so damn familiar?_ She could have sworn she'd never seen this before, never touched it... but the way it crackled ever so softly when she squeezed it, the graininess of the cover – there wasn't any other word for it. _Familiar._

There was piece of paper wedged between two pages. She took it out and unfolded it, revealing a cursive, flowing script – again, curiously familiar. _Just a little encouragement_, it read. After that was a mess of lines, circles and dots that Jacqueline recognised as the same impossible-to-read symbology that accompanied some of her emails.

As she stared, the symbols seem to glow, and shift on the paper, brightening and fading...

She gasped. Suddenly, she could read the strange script.

_Love, the Doctor._

The Doctor.

_Him. Again._

She kept staring at the page. She blinked... and it was gone. Back to the same unintelligible mess of squiggles. But she remembered... she remembered what she'd seen. _It's him again. He gave me this. Left it here. Why? What for? Encouragement for what?_

She cast her mind back to the last email John Smith had sent her. The one signed off by the Doctor.

_Find Amelia Pond_.

Her eyes widened to saucers. _This diary... it's hers._ _Amelia Pond's._ She didn't know how she knew – she just knew.

With trembling fingers, she opened the diary, sat down, and began to read.

_My name is Amy Pond,_ the first entry, dated the 25th of June 2010, read.

_When I was seven, I had an imaginary friend. Last night was the night before my wedding, and my imaginary friend came back..._

* * *

**IV.**

"So is this normal for you?"

The Doctor didn't even bother to turn around to fave Melody, continuing to run his sonic up and down the taped-off lift. "Hm? What?"

"This. The whole 'do something mysterious and impressive while someone else stands around looking confused so you can look clever when you explain it to them' thing."

"No idea what you're talking about."

Melody was totally unconvinced. "Right. So what _are_ you doing, then? What's so special about this lift?"

"Well, according to the sonic..." He cocked his wrist so the sonic was right in front of his eyes, reading off a tiny panel on one side. "It's not actually a lift."

Melody raised an eyebrow ever so gently. "Let me guess," she intoned in a voice overflowing with sarcasm. "It's just a metal box with buttons on it. Oh, and it took me between different floors whenever I pushed said buttons. Gee, I wish we had a _name_ for something like that..."

"Snarky, aren't you?"

"I do my best. Come on, mister. Explain to me what's going on. _Now._"

"You're just as bad as your sister," he muttered under his breath as he jammed his thumb into the 'up' button on the panel. The doors slid open with barely a whisper, and he stepped inside.

"What?"

"Nothing. OK. Fine. First, I want you to breathe deep. Centre yourself. Find a calm space-"

"Doctor, shut up and tell me," Melody ordered in an icy, slicing tone.

"Alright, alright! It's a lift, but it seems that someone's piggybacked a teleporter to the controls."

"A _teleporter?_" This day was getting beyond weird now. "What, like a disappear from one place, reappear instantly in a completely different place teleporter?"

"Well, yes, as opposed to all the other kinds of teleporters you see around."

"And you say _I'm_ too sarcastic."

"Not quite. Listen more carefully next time, Clarke, your life may depend on it soon." He twirled his sonic in a convulted pattern in the air and checked the results again. Apparently satisfied with the results, he pocketed the screwdriver in his tuxedo, patting it against his chest. "Now, coming?"

"What?" Melody had _not_ been expecting this. At all. "Um-"

"Is that the usual response to everything nowadays? I'll try again. Are you, Miss Clarke, coming?"

She narrowed her eyes, unimpressed by the slight condescension in his tone. "Let me guess – you want to activate the teleporter."

"Sounds like a good idea, yes."

"And do you know where it goes? You do, right?"

"Don't be silly, of course I don't."

She folded her arms across her chest. "No. No, somehow, I don't think so."

"Suit yourself. Go back and run to your degree, and work, and nine-to-five-days, and two hour traffic jams. I, meanwhile, shall have fun with teleporters. Love teleporters, haven't seen one in _ages..._"

His words weakened her resolve somewhat. Now that she thought about it, a normal life was more or less synonymous with a _boring_ life.

And hadn't she spent so many long, quiet evenings with her sister, gazing up at the stars, hoping and wondering if there was something more?

Now she was here, and he was offering. All she had to do was take.

_But..._

"OK. Suppose I go with you. Not that I will. Not that I'm saying I will – or won't – or whatever. But suppose I go with you. Will it be, well..."

"Dangerous?" Alarmingly, his face visibly brightened at the word. "Oh, almost certainly! Life threateningly, terrifyingly dangerous. Teleporter that's resulted in people going missing for weeks and I, the Doctor, have no idea where it goes? How could it not?" He seemed positively giddy at the idea, but sobered up once he remembered her presence. "But, of course, if that's too much, then you're free to go. I won't stop you."

She glanced behind her, down the grey, dank corridor, down the featureless hall... _down at a normal life._

"Right. Fine. Just one last question. Can I trust you?" _You've already tried to lie and deceive me and my sister plenty of times already..._

His eyes widened, clearly affronted by the question. "Of course you can. Absolutely you can."

She locked eyes with his, her liquid brown searching his sky blue. His aged blue. _Kind_ blue. Her expression softened, and she stepped inside the lift. "OK. You win."

He smiled at her, a warm, caring smile. A smile that carried with it the promise of protection by any means possible, at any cost. "Good girl. First – ground rules: one, I'm the Doctor, two, don't wander off, and three, don't ask stupid questions. Understand?"

Melody nodded, although she suspected that number three was going to be difficult to hold to. "Understood. Teleport us away, Doctor."

He grinned at her, flicked out his sonic, raised it at the ceiling and pushed the button.

* * *

**V.**

Jacqueline had never read so quickly in her life.

This was quite a feat – she had broken speed-reading records at school – but she'd found herself inexorably drawn into the diary, addicted to the slender, flowing script, so much like her own, and the words they conveyed.

Frankly, at times she wasn't sure if she was reading a diary or a proposal for a sci-fi film. _Countries on spaceships? Winston Churchill? Seriously?_ A few times she'd been tempted to just put the diary down and stop reading, it was _so_ ridiculous. But then...

_20th June 2010. Crash of the Byzantium. _That had turned everything on its head. Not so much the account of the experience – which was quite frankly more terrifying than she suspected she could envisage – but more the fact it seemed _so damned familiar._

Deadly stone statues that moved only when you weren't looking? She'd seen those.

Forest full of oxygen machines? She'd been there.

Laying on the forest floor dying as the statue, apparently named a Weeping Angel, consumed her from within? She'd experienced that too.

All in her dreams.

The implication was obvious. _I am Amelia Pond, and this was my life before I lost my memory._ But that simply raised more questions than answers. _Why did I end up here? What was I like before I lost my memory? Who is the Doctor, and how did he know me?_

None of this made any sense. She flicked through the pages, hoping for some actual answers as to who she was, who Amelia was. She flicked through to the page close to the end of where Amy – she still had to think of Amy Pond as a different person to herself – had written up to. It was blank save for one line.

_My name is Amelia Pond._

She frowned. Well, that was useless, wasn't it? She already knew that, thanks. She turned back through the pages, hoping to find something more enlightening. A settled on a page about halfway through.

_Found something neat today,_ Amelia had written, _apparently the sonic screwdriver can home in on the TARDIS if you're within about a mile of it and you're on the right frequency. No idea how the Doctor didn't realise this before. I think he didn't realise this, anyway. Maybe he was being stupid. Either way, it sure saved our butts today. Literally – those fish thingies were kind of vicious and fast on land. For fish, at least. We had to run pretty quick, but that's not easy when your own personal idiot had parked inside a maze. Good thing I don't use the sonic phone any more, there's no way I'd have worked out the right setting in time. Pointing and thinking is heaps easier..._

At first Jacqueline thought that that was completely useless as well, but an idea had struck her.

Her unlocker. What was it _really_ called? "Unlocker" was just a name she'd given it because it, well, unlocked stuff. She didn't actually have the slightest clue what it was _actually_ called. And it certainly seemed to give off some kind of directed sound wave when activated, based on 'experiments' where she'd activated it right next to her ear (not something she recommended to anyone else).

_Just maybe..._

She took out the silver, cylindrical device and inspected it slowly in her fingers. It was completely mad and somewhat stupid, but what harm was there in trying?

_Point and think._

"Alright," she said out loud. "Let's see if this is legit. Go on, point me at this... TARDIS thing." She placed her thumb on the activate button and jammed down on it hard.

At first, nothing happened, and Jacqueline was about to write it off as useless... but then she heard something. An almost inaudible, high-pitched drone. Cautiously, as if this was a really dangerous thing to be doing, she turned the sonic around so it was pointing vaguely north. The drone suddenly increased into a loud, constant tone.

Jacqueline broke into a broad grin. She stuffed the diary in her pocket, got up and started following her sonic screwdriver.

* * *

**If you hadn't worked it out, the "adventure" is a highly simplified riff on Closing Time.**

**Review, yeah?**


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